Change Directions
by dontcallmemrs
Summary: **ON HIATUS** "Do you disapprove of personal wealth, Ms. Bennet?" "I only disapprove of personal wealth when I'm not at the Netherfield, drinking good champagne. In those cases, I fully approve." Another modern retelling. Can you stand it?
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

 _7:30pm - A night in April._

Elizabeth Bennet – Lizzie, to her family and closest friends – surveyed her surroundings with satisfaction. As the newly hired Director of Programs for the Bingley Foundation, tonight was a major milestone in her first three months on the job. Dinner at the foundation's annual gala, _the_ annual event for the Board of Directors to celebrate with major donors and community partners, was running smoothly. Guests murmured appreciatively over tender filet mignon and delicate sole meunière. Serving staff circled unobtrusively, refilling wine glasses here, retrieving and folding forgotten napkins there.

She caught a glance and a nod from her boss, Charlotte Lucas. _Showtime_. Lizzie excused herself from her dinner companions, and with a quick, light step ascended the small stage. The crowd quieted as they acknowledged her at the podium.

"Good evening. I'm Elizabeth Bennet, Director of Programs for the Bingley Foundation. Thank you all for joining us here at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens tonight for this incredible celebration." She paused, allowing the light applause to trickle off. "I've only been with the Bingley Foundation for three months, but it has been the most inspiring three months getting to know the critical work of our community partners. Your efforts are transforming education across the city of New York. Last year, by our estimates, the foundation's programs served over ten thousand students at every level, from pre-K to college and beyond.

"But what has blown me away has been the Bingley Foundation's attitude toward service. When I joined, I knew that the foundation was a leader in funding new participatory models for education. However, what I've found truly extraordinary is the humbleness with which everyone at the foundation approaches this mission. I can say that while I'm still new, and it's not bragging." The crowd chuckled. "No one presumes to know what the answer is. We rely on our community partners to inform us – to tell us what's working, and what's not. Sometimes, it takes us in unexpected directions, creating outcomes we could have never imagined.

"Our speaker tonight embodies exactly this approach to education. The Bingley Foundation first heard about William Goulding through the Haye-Park Academy, where he was in the first graduating class. He stayed involved with us while at Vassar, eventually using his experience as a first-generation student to launch an incredibly successful mentoring program to prepare other first-gen students for college success. As one of this year's eight Bingley Fellows, William plans to spend the year ahead growing this mentorship network, scaling from a single program to twelve campuses across the United States. I'm delighted to introduce William to you all. Ladies and gentlemen, William Goulding."

As William took the stage to thunderous applause, Lizzie skillfully faded into the background. She was met at the back of the room by a willowy blonde who shared her indigo eyes. Jane Bennet was her elder by two years, a rock-star nurse practitioner at New York-Presbyterian, and her confidante, cheerleader, and generally very best friend. And tonight, she was Lizzie's date. "You were wonderful up there."

Lizzie beamed. "It's easy when I do none of the work and get to take all the credit." She nodded at Charlotte, who was coming toward them with a gentleman in tow. He wore a broad grin, the apples of his cheeks matching his strawberry blonde hair.

"Lizzie, I've been dying to introduce you formally to Charles Bingley. Charlie, this is Lizzie Bennet, our new Director of Programs. I genuinely don't know how we managed before she arrived."

Impossibly, Charlie's grin spread even wider. "I've heard nothing but raves about you, Lizzie. If your remarks just now are any indication, the rumors are all true. Charlotte tells me that you have some pretty great plans in store for the next year."

Lizzie laughed in response. So this was their elusive board chair. "I've only just met you, but I won't be modest. It's going to be an excellent year." She nodded toward Jane. "This is my sister, Jane. She's making an incredible sacrifice by skipping her overnight shift at the hospital to be my date."

Her sister blushed. "Lizzie is joking. I made absolutely certain that I had excellent coverage well in advance."

As Jane and Charlie exchanged pleasantries, Lizzie's attention was caught by the belated entrance of two people. The man was tall and trim, dressed austerely in a tuxedo. The woman wore an intricately embroidered and beaded gown, and her impeccably manicured hand grasped the crook of the man's arm. Most striking, however, were the matching scowls on their faces. Lizzie sensed that these two were accustomed to being unimpressed.

Charlotte nudged her with a discreet elbow. Lizzie tuned back in; Charlie and Jane were looking at her expectantly. She flashed a self-deprecating smile. "Sorry, I lost myself in the crowd for a moment. What were we talking about?"

"Charlie suggested that we join him and a few others at an after party tonight. What do you think?" Jane's tone was even, but Lizzie saw eagerness in her eyes.

"Of course. There's nothing like calling in sick on Friday with a hangover. Especially if it's sanctioned by the chair of the board."

"Lizzie!" Charlotte gave her a look of horror. "She's kidding, of course."

Charlie chuckled. "She's not wrong. We're congregating at the Netherfield Hotel. I keep an apartment in the residences there. My sister often stays with me as well." He glanced past Lizzie's shoulder. "Speaking of whom - allow me to introduce my sister, Caroline, and Will Darcy. You likely know Will as another member of the board."

Lizzie did know that. She furthermore knew that Will Darcy was the founder of Pemberley Capital, one of the world's most profitable hedge funds. She turned to greet the newcomers, and smiled as she recognized the scowling couple. Undeterred, she extended her hand. "The pleasure is mine. Lizzie Bennet, Director of Programs here at the Bingley Foundation."

Will Darcy shook her hand peremptorily. "Welcome."

Sensing that there wouldn't be much small talk with Will, Lizzie turned to Caroline. "It's lovely to meet you. Your dress is stunning."

"Yes, well, it's Valentino. Direct from Rome." She gave Lizzie's silk jumpsuit a withering look. "Things off the rack just don't fit quite as well, don't you agree?"

Charlie seemed slightly embarrassed by his sister's entree. He gestured toward the others. "You know Charlotte, of course. And this is Jane Bennet, Lizzie's sister and date tonight. I've just invited them to join us at the Netherfield after things wrap up here."

"Of course. You have to come." Caroline's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. She turned to Will. "Looks like the band is starting again. I believe you owe me a dance?" Her eyelashes fluttered invitingly.

Will's smile was indulgent. "Of course." He tucked Caroline's hand back into the crook of his arm, sent a nod in Charlie's direction, and strode away.

Watching the couple depart, Lizzie remarked drolly, "I believe we've been dismissed."

Charlie chuckled. "You'll have to excuse Will. He's useless in genteel society. Has been since we met at Exeter. Over 20 years have passed and he's still, well, Will." He flashed Jane a hopeful smile. "Care to dance?"

As Charlie led Jane away, Charlotte gave Lizzie a pointed look. "They're a handsome couple, aren't they?"

"What are you implying, boss lady?"

She shrugged. "Only that if Jane likes what she sees, she should lock it up. Charlie's always on someone's Most Eligible Bachelors list."

Lizzie was appalled. "She doesn't even know him yet. He could have some terrible habits. Nail biting. Teeth picking. Or worse - he could be _boring_."

Charlotte's eye roll reached her voice. "God save us from rich but boring boyfriends."

* * *

 _11:00pm - That same night.  
_

Lizzie, Jane, and Charlotte got out of a cab near Central Park. They stared at the Beaux-Arts style building that rose before them. Charlotte let out a long low whistle. "I've always walked by here, but never ventured in. Intimidating, isn't it?"

Lizzie shrugged. "If we can't get past the front desk, there's always that dive around the corner."

"I'm sure Charlie put us on the list. He seemed excited that we might stop by." Jane's sweet optimism buoyed the trio as they pushed through the revolving doors.

The surprisingly helpful concierge pointed them to a private elevator that took them straight to the penthouse, where the doors opened to reveal a formal drawing room. Thirty or so guests milled about while a mustachioed bartender in the corner shook cocktails and poured wine. Massive floor to ceiling windows offered views of the park, flanked by bookshelves and heavy drapes. Two oversized forest green velvet settees sat facing each other across a solid marble coffee table. Oversized floral arrangements covered the sofa and end tables in a riot of colors.

"Fancy," Lizzie noted as they hung up their coats. "Do you think they'll know we're imposters?"

"Bennets! Charlotte! You made it!" Charlie came bounding across the room. He took Jane by the elbow. "Can I offer you something to drink? We just opened another bottle of champagne. Or you can ask James to make any cocktail you like. I highly recommend the Negroni."

Jane gave him a warm smile. "A Negroni sounds like heaven. But I can help myself. You should take care of your guests."

"I'll give you a hand," Charlotte offered. "Lizzie? Champagne?"

"A magnum of it, if you please." Her boss gave a mock salute and swept away with her sister. Lizzie addressed Charlie, who lingered behind. "This place is lovely. Thanks for inviting us to stop by."

He grinned. "My sister's taste, mostly. If left to my own devices, there'd be animal heads and leather couches, and I don't hunt. But we're only here part-time - there's a house in the Hudson Valley that's been in the family for generations. We spend a good amount of time up there. Caroline uses this place more often than I do, especially when she's working." At Lizzie's puzzled look, he explained, "She does some modeling and product promotion with a couple of brands based here."

"Online?" Charlie nodded. "Would that we all could be bloggers and influencers. For me, however, I'm content with a meaningful 9-to-5." She smirked. "Especially if I get to tell people what to do."

"Charlotte thinks the world of you. She tells me regularly."

"It's only been a few months, but she's become a dear friend, in addition to being the boss." Lizzie sensed that she wasn't the only Bennet that he was interested in talking about. "We've been catching the occasional drink after work. Jane joins us if she can get away from the hospital." Charlie's eyes lit up.

"So you and your sister are close, then? And she's a doctor?"

 _Nailed it._ "Nurse practitioner. One of the best at New York-Presbyterian, though I'll admit I'm biased. She's spearheading a new integrated care program for neurology and neurosurgery."

"That's incredible. I wish we knew her when our father was being treated for a stroke."

Lizzie's eyes turned sympathetic. "I'm so sorry."

"It was a few years ago. It was all we could do to make him comfortable before he passed." Charlie shook his head, clearing the somberness from his mood. "But now, here we are, with the Bingley Foundation as his legacy. We're going to change education for the better, to ensure that every child has a fighting chance. Well, you are, I suppose. I'll just write the checks."

Lizzie teased, "Finally, money being used for good instead of evil."

A throat cleared beside them. "Do you disapprove of personal wealth, Ms. Bennet?" Lizzie and Charlie turned to see Will Darcy, two glasses of champagne in hand. Without a smile, he offered one to Lizzie. "Charlotte Lucas asked me to bring this to you."

She nodded her thanks. "I only disapprove of personal wealth when I'm not at the Netherfield, drinking good champagne. In those cases, I fully approve." Her expression was mischievous.

Will Darcy frowned. "The generosity of the Bingley family not only pays for the grants you make, but for your own salary as well."

Lizzie saw red. Apparently, he had no sense of humor. "I'm reminded of that fact every time I see my business card." She spotted Jane and Charlotte winding their way back from the bar. "If you'll excuse me, I believe my sister is signaling for me. Thank you for the champagne." She gave Charlie an apologetic smile, pivoted on her toes, and left.

* * *

 _12:30am - Also that night._

 _Where was Jane?_ Lizzie had lost track of her sister. Charlotte had left for home a half an hour ago, but Jane had been hitting it off with Charlie, so Lizzie had been content to make small talk with other guests while giving the pair time to get to know each other. But it was getting late and they'd have to call a car service to get back to Hoboken. Rather than continue circulating - there were only so many more times she could accept a business card from Dr. Perry, Naturopath - Lizzie parked herself on one of the green sofas and pulled out her phone to text her sister.

As her fingers hovered over her message, she overheard voices from the other side of the sofa, the view of which was obscured by a collection of tall vases bursting with blooms. "Will, you've done nothing but glower all night. It's embarrassing, really." Charlie was lightly ribbing his friend.

"Oh Charlie, leave him alone." Caroline Bingley's simper was audible. Thank goodness Lizzie had managed to avoid her after a brief greeting earlier. "Will just has high standards for those he associates with, isn't that right, Will?"

"There's nothing wrong with this crowd. I'm simply not in the mood to make new friends." _Spoken like a true misanthrope,_ thought Lizzie. "But don't let me stop you from getting to know Jane Bennet better. You've been hanging on her every word all night."

"She's wonderful, isn't she? When she's not at the hospital, she volunteers with Big Sister and delivers meals to seniors."

"You're mooning, Charlie," cautioned Will. Lizzie smiled to herself. Jane had dated worse specimens than Charlie Bingley. He was certainly the nicest multimillionaire she'd ever met.

"So what if I am? Be my wingman. Spend some time with Lizzie. She's beautiful and accomplished, too."

"I said I wasn't in the mood to make new friends. Especially those who need to bring their sister as a date to a gala."

"Will, you're terrible!" The irony in Caroline's voice was palpable. "And you," turning to her brother, "be serious! She works for us, and furthermore, she's crass. As if Will would ever be interested in staff." Irony had transformed into disdain.

Lizzie had heard enough. She rose from her seat, twisting to address the small group. "I'm afraid I've misplaced my sister. How crass of me. If any of you know where she might have gone, I can assure you that we'll remove ourselves promptly."

Charlie was the only one who attempted an answer. "Lizzie, I -" "No, please don't apologize for others' opinions." Her smile was genuine and kind. "But if you could tell me where you last saw Jane, I do think it's time for us to leave."

"She was headed for the powder room just awhile ago. Down the hallway, first door on the left. Here, let me show you."

As they left the others, Charlie murmured his apologies. "I'm so sorry. If I'd known you were there…"

Lizzie felt nothing but sympathy for him. "Frankly, it's good to know where I stand. Had they said anything rude about Jane, I would have been outraged. But my sense of humor isn't for everyone, and to be fair I _am_ a staff member."

"And I'm just a walking checkbook." He rolled his eyes to emphasize the understatement. "Ignore them. Caroline has her moods. And Will, well, trust me. He's a good guy. Things haven't been easy lately."

They had reached the powder room. Lizzie let the topic drop. "Jane?" She knocked lightly. "You in there?"

Her sister's voice echoed off tile, making her sound far away though she was just on the other side of the door. "Lizzie? I was just about to text you. Are you alone?"

Lizzie's antennae went up. "No, dear. Charlie is here too. What's going on?" Something was definitely off.

"I'm sorry, I just got so -" Interrupted by retching.

"Jane, I'm coming in." Lizzie tried the door handle. Thankfully, it was unlocked. "Charlie, perhaps it'd be better if you went back to the others. She may not be accepting visitors." He hovered, uncertain. "Please. I'll let you know how she is."

Reluctantly, Charlie left. Lizzie pushed the door open to see her sister on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet. Jane gave her a wan smile. "At least the floors are heated."

Lizzie felt a rush of relief at the weak joke. Jane was in bad shape, but no one needed to call an ambulance. "Honey, what's happening?"

"I think it's norovirus. You know, the cruise ship virus. We had a few folks come down with it at the hospital last week. I think -" She quickly hoisted herself over the toilet bowl. Lizzie held her hair back as she dry heaved. Finished, Jane spoke into the bowl. "I think I caught it."

Lizzie helped her sister stand up to rinse her mouth at the sink. "We need to get you home. I'll call the car service. Hopefully the tunnels won't be bad -" She was interrupted by a knock.

Jane opened the door to a very concerned Charlie. Quietly, she reassured him. "Seems like I caught the stomach bug going around the hospital. We should head home. I'll wipe down in here, but make sure you wash your hands thoroughly for the next few days."

"You can't possibly think of leaving when you're feeling this terrible." He looked to Lizzie for support. "We'll get her a room here at the Netherfield. I'll see if my doctor can make a house call."

"No, that won't be necessary. Norovirus isn't treatable with medication. I just need rest."

"All the more reason you should stay. You'd have peace and quiet. Also, no worries about roommates," a sly glance at Lizzie, "catching it."

Jane hesitated, but Lizzie could tell the idea was beginning to appeal. And maybe it would give her sister and Charlie a bit more time together. "Perhaps staying wouldn't be the worst option," she ventured.

"But Lizzie, you'd have to go home alone tonight." Jane's protest was genuine. "And I don't have anything with me."

"I can solve that," Charlie chirped helpfully. "Let me call down and arrange the room. We can send Lizzie back to your place to pack a bag for you. I'll ask Will if he can drive."

Jane's eyes glowed with gratitude. "It would be really nice just to turn in. Lizzie, you don't mind?"

Lizzie, on the other hand, was experiencing some inner turmoil. Get in a car with Will Darcy? Let him judge her home? She could think of a thousand ways she'd rather end her night. Being thrown in the Chokey. Chinese water torture. Listening to Nickelback on repeat. Still, the eagerness on her sister's face... "Of course not. Anything you need."

"Great. I'll find Will." Charlie bounded off.

"You're pretty transparent, you know that? For shame, woman. He's my boss's boss." Lizzie teased her sister. "Oh, you're blushing!"

"He's been so kind. And I won't be contaminating our apartment. You know how contagious this can be."

"This may be the first time I've ever heard of someone getting a hotel room after a party for purely recuperative reasons. Charlie is one in seven billion." Lizzie hugged her sister. "I should go find the illustrious Mr. Darcy. Text me anything specific you'd like me to put in your bag. I'll stop by first thing in the morning. Charlotte already told me not to bother coming in until I felt like it." She gave Jane a final squeeze and left.

Will met her not four steps from the powder room. "I'm told you're in need of a ride. I just asked that my car be brought around. Are you ready to go?"

Lizzie was too tired and too concerned for her sister to make any sort of pithy remark. "Yes. Thanks."

They traveled down the elevator and through the lobby without speaking. Once curbside, Lizzie was surprised when a late model Subaru Forester rolled to a stop in front of them. "This is what the founder of Pemberley Capital drives?"

His response was sharp. "You expected something else? I'm sorry to disappoint."

"No, not at all. It's eminently practical." She watched as Will opened the passenger door for her. As she got in, she paused, a hand on his arm. "Thank you for taking me back to Hoboken."

"Sure." The door closed firmly shut. _How rude._

* * *

 _1:30am - Dear God, why won't this night end?_

The 20 minute ride through the Lincoln Tunnel was conducted mostly in silence, with only the bare minimum of instructions puncturing the tension. Lizzie's apprehension about letting Will see her home continued to grow. She was fiercely protective of the little brownstone that she and Jane shared. They had scrimped and saved as young twenty-somethings living at home after college in order to afford the down payment on a space of their own. Their efforts had paid off when the Longs - friends of the family - had announced they were selling a rental in Hoboken, New Jersey as part of their retirement.

It bore the scars of 20 years of tenant use, but the unit was structurally sound, with two real bedrooms and access to the train. The sisters had pounced. With a Home Depot credit card and a lot of elbow grease, they had spent the last few years transforming the dingy space into a cozy home filled with family antiques and flea market finds.

"Turn left here, then it's the second building on the right." Will pulled the car into an open parking space. In the blink of an eye, he was at her door to assist her down.

Passing through the vestibule, Lizzie led him up to their third floor walkup. While she fumbled with her keys, Lizzie became deeply aware of his presence at her back, stern and foreboding. _When did this hallway get so cramped?_ Will reached out a hand - she snapped. "I have it." The lock gave, and with a sigh of relief, she pushed into their entry.

"Hi Kitty," she crooned at the orange tabby cat that greeted her at the front door. "Did I leave you too long?" The cat responded with a meow.

"Your cat is named Kitty?" Will asked in disbelief as she bent to pick the cat up.

"Short for Hello Kitty." She would have dared him to laugh, but there was no danger of that. "And that one," nodding toward a grey tabby who hardly acknowledged them, "is Rosemary. Mary, for short. She's an antisocial diva. Kitty here just wants your love, don't you Kitty?" Another meow in agreement.

Lizzie let the cat hop down, then strode down the hall to Jane's bedroom, muttering, "I only need a few minutes."

When she emerged, Jane's overnight bag in tow, she found Will standing in the living room inspecting a framed photo on the wall. Jane and Lizzie beamed at the camera in matching purple graduation gowns. A pre-teen girl, ash blonde with blue-grey eyes, sulked between them. "You have another sister." He seemed to have a habit of delivering questions as statements.

"Lydia. She's 19 now and still lives with my folks in Ossining. That was taken at my graduation from NYU - Jane also finished her BSN that year, hence the gown. She graduated from Stony Brook with a degree in electrical engineering a couple of years before that."

"You're incredibly proud of her."

"Of course I am. Jane inspires awe. And she makes an excellent date."

Will's eyes narrowed. "You were eavesdropping."

"If you didn't want anyone to hear it, you shouldn't have said it." Lizzie thrust the overnight bag toward him. "Here. Thank you for bringing this back to Jane." It was a dismissal.

Will took the bag and let Lizzie escort him to the door. He paused at the threshold to say goodbye. "I enjoyed meeting you tonight."

 _No, you didn't._ "I enjoyed it as much as you did." She closed the door and firmly bolted the lock.

Kitty and Mary padded after Lizzie as she made her way through the apartment, switching off lamps and closing curtains. Suddenly, she felt the prickling of something being out of place. Her gaze swept over the premises.

There on the stove sat the kettle, steam rising out of the spout. Next to it were two mugs waiting to be filled, with matching tags hanging over their sides indicating her favorite chamomile tea. Will had obviously prepared it. _What the hell?_

Confused and unsettled, Lizzie cleared the mugs into the sink, snapped off the light, and took herself to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

 _11:00am - The next morning_

A solid seven hours of sleep, a restorative shower, and a strong cup of coffee from the fancy shop around the corner from their apartment later, Lizzie stood at the front desk at the Netherfield. Jane had gone to bed without texting Lizzie a room number. It was all understandable, but it meant that Lizzie was currently at the mercy of the unnaturally pleasant front desk agent. Truly, no one should be that nice while saying No. "I'm sorry, but without…" "Without express permission from the guest, I know, I know. But she's sick, and I don't want to wake her if she's sleeping."

Lizzie paused to consider. Apparently - she glanced at the girl's name tag - Harriet would need some convincing. "Harriet, imagine your sister, your best friend, has the stomach bug to end all stomach bugs. Explosive. Everywhere." She cringed for effect. "And imagine that you can bring her joy and comfort by ensuring she gets this," she held up a Duane Reede bag, "magical elixir known as Pedialyte. And imagine that all it would take is for a very kind desk agent to slightly bend - nudge, really - a silly rule that shouldn't apply to nuclear family members."

Harriet's smile turned brighter, even as she shook her head in apology. "I'm really sorry, miss. But I can have someone deliver the Pedialyte if you like."

Lizzie knew when she'd been bested. She turned to go, but then- "Lizzie!" Charles Bingley came loping - _Did the man ever walk normally?_ \- across the lobby. "Are you here to see Jane?" Caroline followed slowly behind, clearly disinterested in any interaction.

She nodded. "I didn't get Jane's room number last night, and Harriet is unable to give it to me. Not that I blame her," Lizzie added sympathetically. "Policy, you know."

Charlie leaned over the front desk with the assurance of someone who had always gotten his way. "Is this true, Harriet?" he cajoled.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Bingley," Harriet stuttered. Lizzie would have, too, faced with his charm. "I didn't know she was a guest of yours."

"Oh, she's not a friend. She works for our family." Caroline had made it to the desk. Lizzie's eyes slid to Harriet, who was trying desperately to hide a smile. The lack of self-awareness was stupendous, really.

"Her sister became ill while they were visiting our suite last night," Charlie hastened to add. "No worries, Harriet, I'm absolving you of all responsibility. Lizzie, I'll bring you up to Jane's room - she's in 1216." He turned to his sister. "You don't mind waiting another five minutes, do you?"

Caroline looked put out. "Do you really need to escort her?"

"We have plenty of time before our reservation," Charlie replied, smoothly cutting off further protests. Taking Lizzie by the elbow, he steered her toward the elevators.

"I can head up myself, really," she protested out of politeness. "No need to make yourself late for your appointment."

"It's nothing." Charlie shrugged as he pushed the button. "Caroline can stand to wait a few minutes. It's nice that you're here for your sister. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you."

"She'd do the same for me. We've always looked out for one another."

He smiled at Lizzie's sentiment. "Will you be back this evening? If so, you should join us for dinner. It'll be casual, just upstairs in our apartment."

"I really couldn't impose…" She had already spent too much time in Caroline Bingley's presence.

"No, I insist. Plus, you can tell me more about the intergenerational learning program that you want to launch next fall."

"Oh! It's been something that's been bubbling in my head for awhile. I think it'd fit in nicely with our other programs, especially with Lifelong Learning and Early Development. I've been floating some of this with my contacts at NYU, and they say the literature supports it. Charlotte thinks we can greenlight some funds to pilot-"

He cut her off with a laugh. "Let's do a deep dive later. For now," nodding toward the door which Lizzie hadn't even realized they'd reached, "please say hi to your sister for me. Will you let her know that I'll stop by in the afternoon, if she's feeling better?"

"Sure thing." As Charlie retreated back down the hallway, Lizzie knocked on the door, listening for her sister's voice on the other side. Jane's voice was muffled, but not weak. A good sign. "Janey, it's me. I have Pedialyte."

The door cracked open. Jane's tousled head peeked out. "Charlie's gone?" At her sister's nod, she swung the door wide, letting Lizzie in.

Jane looked, well, terrible. It was to be expected, if one had spent the majority of the night between bouts of illness. Her dull hair was pulled up in a hasty bun; the bags under her eyes were purplish and puffy. Lizzie gave into the urge to pull her sister in for a hug.

"Oh, I look worse than I feel." Jane's words were muffled into Lizzie's neck. "I think it's mostly passed. Something to drink, some rest, and I'm sure I'll be fine by tomorrow."

Lizzie let her sister go. "Are you feeling up to a shower? I snagged some extra good stuff off a housekeeping cart." She rummaged in her coat pocket to produce two little bottles, one shampoo and one conditioner. "It's all natural, free range, organic, pH balanced, and made by cloistered monks in New Jersey. I bet it makes your hair smell like sunshine, apple pie, and the forest all at the same time."

Jane chuckled weakly. "A shower sounds heavenly. Can you stay? Or do you have to get to the office?"

"I can hang for another half hour. Why don't you hop in and I'll order coffee from room service. And then you can thank me for willingly coming back this evening and subjecting myself to dinner with Caroline Bingley."

"She's not all that bad." Jane's voice carried from the bathroom as she turned the shower on. "I texted Mom, by the way. She and Lydia are coming by later, too."

Lizzie gave an eyeroll at the bathroom door. "You're supposed to be _resting_ , lady," she shouted.

* * *

 _5:45pm - That evening_

Lizzie couldn't explain it, but her stomach was unsettled all afternoon as she'd been writing thank you notes to the gala attendees. She hadn't been subtle. At a quarter past five, Charlotte had muttered something about Patient Zero and sent Lizzie on her way.

As a result, Lizzie was back at the Netherfield, striding down the hall of the 12th floor. She knocked at Jane's door, and waited for a response.

And waited.

"Jane?"

Nothing. Her sister must have finally succumbed to sleep.

Content to let Jane rest, Lizzie contemplated what else she might do as she made her way back to the elevators. Charlie hadn't indicated what time dinner would be, although it wouldn't surprise her if the Bingleys and their sort ate fashionably late. Her belly grumbled at the thought. Perhaps she'd run to the cart at the corner for a quick hotdog, then regroup.

 _Ding_. The elevator doors opened; an elderly couple descended, nodding goodbye to the other occupant. Lizzie froze. _Will Darcy._

She jabbed at the DOWN button, hoping he hadn't seen her. "Lizzie." _Fack_. No such luck.

Will held the elevator door open. "Charlie mentioned that you were coming over. Care to head up?"

In that split second, Lizzie couldn't come up with a response that didn't involve dirty water hot dogs or unfinished cups of tea. Unwilling to give voice to either thought, she stepped into the elevator with Will.

"I didn't realize you would be at dinner," she ventured.

"Yes, we eat together when we're both in town." He stared straight ahead at the elevator's digital display, not looking at her.

Lizzie waited for some other nugget of conversation, but it appeared none was forthcoming. She sighed with relief as the doors dinged open.

The drawing room was empty. "Hello?" called Will, announcing their presence.

Caroline's disembodied voice preceded her into the room. "Oh good, Will, you're here. I need help with my iPad. It keeps-" Looking up, she spotted Lizzie. "You brought Eliza with you."

Lizzie arched a brow at the uninvited nickname. "Lovely to see you again, Caroline. Thanks for inviting me to dinner."

"Oh, did Charlie do that? He's always loved _mixed_ company." Caroline's shrug was elegantly dismissive. "We won't be eating for a couple of hours yet. Charlie's still on the phone with Brazil. I'm sure you can entertain yourself." She turned flirty eyes back to Will. "My iPad?"

If he was at all annoyed with Caroline's behavior, his face certainly didn't reveal it. In fact, Lizzie thought his face didn't reveal anything. "Show me."

While Caroline led Will to the massive dining table, Lizzie took a spot on one of the couches. Those emails wouldn't write themselves. Too bad about the hot dog.

* * *

"Lizzie! Excellent. You're here." Charlie's exuberant entrance shook the room's inhabitants out of their silence. Lizzie had long abandoned writing emails in favor of an old issue of _The Atlantic_. Caroline, on the other sofa, had been silently scrolling through social media posts on her tablet. Will sat at the dining table, furiously typing missive after missive. Lizzie could tell when he hit send from the very decisive Ctrl-Enter that occasionally punctuated his rapid keystrokes.

"Yes, Charlie," drawled Caroline. "You left us all here with _your_ guest for the last 45 minutes. I'm sure she's bored to death. Will and I are working, you know."

Lizzie was quick to reassure. "Of course not." She raised her magazine. "I love good longform."

"Such an activist!" Caroline's praise was sharp. "Nothing can come between you and a cause. The rest of us mortals just can't compare."

"I would never say that," Lizzie returned. "And also, this piece is about a woman who gets catfished. It's not life-changing, but it's pretty gripping."

"I read that one. She ends up with the model."

Lizzie looked past Caroline at Will. "Thanks for spoiling it." At least he had the good sense to look slightly chagrined.

"It's such a sketchy world out there. You'd never let Georgiana fall prey to a scheme like that, would you, Will?" Good god, Lizzie thought she could _hear_ the batting of Caroline's eyelashes. "Georgiana, you know, is Will's baby sister. She's one of the most sought after photographers in New York. Incredibly talented, although I suppose that just runs in the family. We're supposed to work together soon."

"Well, it amazes me to think about how talented everyone I know is." As usual, Charlie's good nature bubbled over.

His sister balked. "Really, Charlie. Don't you think you're being a little too flattering? Not everyone is truly talented."

"She's right, you know." Of course Will would agree. Lizzie gave an internal eye-roll. "I can only think of a handful of people who I'd describe as such."

"You must have awfully high standards," Lizzie retorted.

"I do." So matter-of-fact.

Caroline nodded eagerly. "Of course he does. We should all have such high standards. True talent is more than having a hobby. A truly talented person know things about music, art, and fashion. She speaks a second language. She's always chic, carries herself gracefully, and knows how to act in every situation."

Lizzie couldn't help but notice that Caroline had slipped into 'she.' Could she be anymore transparent? So much for women helping other women.

"And on top of that, truly talented people are lifelong learners, always curious about the world around them. Change is constant. They have to keep up." Will threw a glance at the magazine in Lizzie's hands. She slapped it down onto the coffee table.

"Given the breed standards, I'd be surprised if you could show me even one talented person."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you that cynical?"

Lizzie returned his gaze "Nope. Just realistic. I've never met this paragon, but I'm pretty sure they'd be downright unbearable to be around. Unless, of course, you're speaking of yourself." It was a false flattery.

"Oh, I'm well aware of my personal issues. I have little patience for stupid people. It's hard to shake my first impression of someone."

"And he holds grudges," contributed Charlie, helpfully.

"And I hold grudges. See? Everyone has their flaw."

"Yours is to hate everyone," Lizzie summarized pertly.

Will smiled. "And _yours_ is to willfully misunderstand them." Lizzie gaped. _Touche_.

Charlie mercifully ended their stand-off. "I'm hungry. Should we order?"

"Why can't we just go out?" Caroline whined. "I'm sure Will could get us a table at Per Se."

Her brother tossed his friend a look. "Will has better ways to use his name, right Will?" Will tactfully shrugged. "Besides, if we order from a deli, we can get some soup for Jane. I'm sure she'd appreciate a real meal."

Lizzie was charmed by Charlie's concern for her sister. "I'm sure she would. We usually share a pastrami on rye with mustard, and matzo ball soup. Maybe some applesauce for Jane, if they have homemade."

"That settles it. Do you think she'd want to come up?" He beamed at Lizzie's nod and turned to the others. "What would the rest of you like?"

Lizzie used the distraction of ordering to quickly text Jane, in part to see if she was awake. _Up for some dinner? I ordered us soup and sandwich. You can stick to soup if you like._

The response was quick. _Thanks! U here?_

 _L: I'm upstairs. Want me to come down for a bit?_

 _J: Always. Mom said she'd be by in an hour or so._

 _L: Does she have to?_

 _J: She's our mother. It's nice that she wants to check on me._

She looked up from her phone. The men were debating the menu while Caroline bemoaned the lack of pressed juice. Lizzie figured she wouldn't be missed.

"I'm going to check on Jane. Be back in a bit," she announced to no one in particular. Charlie waved a friendly hand in her direction. It was her cue to slip out.

* * *

Jane opened the door before Lizzie could knock. She looked remarkably better after her day of rest. "Thank god you're here. I've had my fill of reality shows and cooking competitions for the next two months."

Lizzie chuckled as she gave her sister a light hug. She reached into her bag. "Here, take this Pellegrino I stole from Caroline's stash."

"Thanks. Charlie brought some down earlier, too."

Lizzie arched a brow as she noted the eight large dark green glass bottles on the desk. "Does he own stock?"

Jane blushed. "He was just being thoughtful. But I suppose I'm so carbonated that I might just float away at this point."

"That's not the _only_ reason why you're ready to float away," Lizzie teased with delight. "Well, I give you full permission to like him. You've certainly liked much stupider specimens."

"It wasn't Henry's fault that he was easily confused by directions."

"He grew up on the Upper West Side, and _still_ couldn't tell you which way downtown was. It's a grid, honey. Charlie is a MENSA candidate compared to him."

"Charlie is smart, full stop. He'd have to be to juggle all the different family interests. Did you know that he gets monthly reports on all the industries they're involved in? I can't imagine having to make decisions about toilet paper and airplane parts all in one sitting. Even with the number of handlers he has, it's still daunting."

"I don't care how smart he is. Or how much he's worth. As long as he respects and values you, he's okay in my book." Lizzie's smile turned mischievous. "I suppose dinners at the Netherfield don't hurt either."

"We're just getting to know each other," Jane demurred. "I mean, we met last night. It's hardly enough time to decide if we're compatible."

"It's enough to know if you have chemistry. I only needed thirty seconds in Will Darcy's presence to discern that he has a heart two sizes too small."

"You're still angry about the date comment?"

"Only because you're an excellent date. The man has zero sense of humor. You know, he and Caroline deserve each other. They'd be doing the world a favor by removing themselves from the dating pool."

"Lizzie!" A bemused smile tempered Jane's disapproval. "We're going up in a moment to have dinner with them. Play nice."

Lizzie stuck her tongue out. "You got all the nice, and I got all the spice. Isn't that what Dad says?"

"He'd disagree, but Dad isn't right all the time."

"Always so diplomatic, Janey. Come on, I'll braid your hair before we head back up into the fray."

* * *

 _8:00pm - Wine o'clock_

Dinner had been a determinedly pleasant affair, with Charlie doing his best to charm Jane, and Lizzie acting as a willing accomplice. Conversation floated between topics, from pop culture to Greek mythology, all accompanied by a heavy dose of sarcasm (Lizzie's contribution.) By the time the group was winding down with a glass of wine, Lizzie was positive that Charlie would follow Jane back to Hoboken at a moment's notice, norovirus and all.

 _Ding_. Like Pavlov's dogs, they all checked their phones to see who might be texting. Will, the lucky winner, gave a grimace. "Sorry guys, it's Georgie." Head down, he quickly responded to her message.

"Oh, will you let her know that I can't wait to see her again?" Caroline looked through her lashes at Will.

He hesitated. "Probably not a great time. Georgie is dealing with an issue at Lucie's school." Lizzie tried not to look too curious, but her poker face failed. "Lucie is Georgie's daughter. She's in first grade," explained Will. He bowed his head at another chime, frowned, and re-commenced texting.

Charlie expanded quietly, "She goes to PS 29 in Brooklyn. Lucie is soft-spoken and imaginative, just like her mother. It's been a little hard for her to make friends."

Jane nodded. "I remember how tough it was as a shy kid. I don't know what I would have done without Lizzie on the playground."

"You were a playground defender, then?" Will's question was directed at Lizzie. When she didn't respond, he repeated the observation.

"Oh, sorry!" Lizzie laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I never know how to respond. Or even if you're expecting a response. You probably want me to agree, just so you can observe how inflated my ego is or how difficult I am. But I like to upend expectations, so it's probably better that I say nothing. You can hate me for foiling you, if you like."

"I could never hate you." Spoken with firm conviction. Caught off guard, Lizzie faltered.

Her phone chimed. _Saved by the bell._ She paled when she saw who it was from. "Oh lord. Jane?"

Her sister smiled sheepishly. "Our mother is here, with our younger sister Lydia." It was half explanation, half apology. "Would you mind if they came up? She just wanted to check in on me."

"Of course we wouldn't mind. I'd like to meet your family," grinned Charlie. He got up to call down to the front desk.

His sister's remark was less generous. "Are they moving in as well?"

Stubbornly, Lizzie defended their mother. "You'd disparage a mother for caring for her daughter?" Nevermind that the woman was as frivolous as they came. Caroline didn't need to know that now. She'd learn soon enough.

"Having healthy parents isn't a given at our age. I have to imagine that letting them take care of you occasionally is good for both sides." This time, Will's observation needed no response. And yet, Lizzie couldn't resist sending him a grateful smile. He acknowledged her with a nod.

Everyone stood as the elevators dinged open. A mass of shopping bags - Henri Bendel, Bloomingdales, Saks - spilled out. Tangled in them was a diminutive woman in her mid-50s with an artfully streaked blonde blow out. Trailing behind was a girl Will recognized as Lydia, except the sullen expression was replaced with smokey eyeshadow and overdrawn lips.

Charlie leaped forward to help with the bags while simultaneously attempting to shake the older woman's hand. "Charlie Bingley. Welcome to our apartment. It's nice to meet Jane's family."

Their mother paused in her clumsiness to take Charlie's hand. "Fran Bennet. I'm sorry about the bags. A little retail therapy. I was so _worried_ about my daughter, you know." In silent concert, Jane and Lizzie quickly organized her bags to prevent more mishaps. Lydia busied herself texting on her phone.

"Won't you have a seat?" Charlie gestured toward the couch. "Can we pour you a glass of wine?"

Lydia's head perked up at the mention of wine. "I'll have a glass, thanks."

Lizzie's eyes narrowed. "You're 19. You can have mineral water." Her younger sister shrugged.

Fran giggled as she sat, accepting the goblet that Charlie held out. "Girls will be girls, you know. Well, I can't thank you enough for all you've done for Jane in her time of need. If it weren't for you, I don't know _what_ we would have done. She's incredibly stoic, my Janey. Always suffering in silence."

Lizzie tried to keep the scorn out of her voice. "Jane is a highly trained medical professional, Mom. She would have been fine."

"But I've appreciated your hospitality all the same," Jane reassured Charlie. "I'll be good as new tomorrow. I don't know if I've ever recovered this quickly."

Fran watched with eagle eyes. "Jane has always been a little more delicate. But it's paired with the sweetest disposition. I've always thought she was the prettiest of my girls."

"Mother -" Jane blushed with embarrassment. "Lizzie and Lydia are beautiful as well. And accomplished, too. Charlie is the Chair of the foundation that Lizzie works for, you know. Caroline is his sister, and Will Darcy is -"

"Pemberley Capital." Their mother finished Jane's sentence for her. "My goodness we're in good company, aren't we? This is Lydia, my youngest. She's finishing her gap year."

Charlie's curiosity was piqued. "Oh, I wish that had been more common in the States when we were applying for school. Where do you plan to attend? What have you been doing this year?"

Lydia pulled herself from her phone long enough to shrug. "I'm still figuring things out. There are just so many opportunities out there, you know? My boyfriend Carter doesn't think college is necessary anyway. I mean, Bill Gates didn't go to college, right?"

"Bill didn't _finish_ college." Lizzie noted Will's casual use of his first name. _Unbelievable_. "But he was incredibly educated otherwise, and has never stopped learning. There's a difference between identifying opportunity and deliberate ignorance."

Fran bristled at Will's censure. "I've done just fine without a college education. We live in a nice home in a good neighborhood. I've raised three successful daughters who will no doubt find themselves good husbands to take care of them, just like my husband has taken care of our family."

"Mom, I don't think he meant anyone here personally." Lizzie was quick to soothe before her mother boiled over. "I think the point is that education is one path to independence, among many paths. After all, Jane and I have our education to thank for our jobs, don't you agree?"

"Certainly," Fran conceded. "But going to college doesn't guarantee security. Those Philips girls have good jobs at their father's body shop. And Mimi Philips is engaged to the general manager. She'll be set for life."

Lizzie caught the snide smile that Caroline slid in Will's direction. Desperate to change the subject, she asked her mother, "How's Dad's arthritis?" Never mind that he had texted her earlier from the golf course. The man should have _some_ enjoyment in his retirement.

"Better, now that he takes apple cider vinegar every day for it. That Dr. Oz is a genius. I started taking these miracle supplements I saw on his show. I swear I'm aging backwards. Jane takes after me, you know." This last statement was directed at Charlie. "If you saw me in my 30s, we'd be almost identical. Or so everybody says. I just hope it's not all for nothing. She was almost engaged last year. I never understood what happened; maybe she's too picky. At least Henry wrote a couple of songs for her…" She trailed off.

Jane looked nauseous, and not from her recent illness. Lydia gave a loud grating giggle at her eldest sister's mortification. Lizzie scrambled to redirect attention. "And that was when we discovered an entirely new type of song, the anti-love ballad."

"You don't agree with Shakespeare?" Will's question surprised her.

"That music is the food of love? Of a deep, abiding love, perhaps. But if it's just a vague inclination on one side, it's not food, it's poison."

No one had anything to say to that. Lizzie prayed for someone other than her mother to break the awkward pause.

"Well, next month is my birthday." Thank god Charlie was a mind reader. "We're having a little get together on the family yacht - I would love it if you all would attend." An incredibly tolerant - masochistic? - mind reader. Caroline, still silent, stared daggers at her brother.

"Oh, Lydia, did you hear that? A party on a yacht. Of course we would love to be there!" Not the Bennet that Charlie had hoped would answer. His eyes scudded from Fran to Jane.

She smiled serenely. "That sounds really nice. Let us know the date - I'm sure we can make it."

Charlie smiled so wide Lizzie thought his face would crack right in half. Time to end this before her mother could ruin the moment.

"How are you feeling, Janey? Should we decamp downstairs and let these kind folks have their space back?"

Her sister nodded. "Thanks, Charlie. I'm feeling so much better - I meant it when I said I don't think I would have recovered quite as quickly without everything that you did."

"It was nothing. I'm glad we could help. I'll -" he paused, took a quick breath, "- call you soon?"

Jane ducked her eyes, but her cheeks were tinged pink. "I'd like that."

Lizzie hustled the rest of her family toward the elevator doors. As she pressed the button, she felt a hand at her elbow. Surprised, she turned to face Will.

"I'll be stopping by the foundation next Wednesday to go over the budget with Charlotte. Will I see you there?"

"Perhaps. They do, as you reminded me last night, sign my paycheck."

He winced. "That was in poor taste."

"Yes, it was." But Lizzie relented. As she followed her mother and sisters onto the elevator, she offered, "If I'm there, feel free to stop and say hi."

"I will. Good night." His face was the last thing she saw as the doors closed.

"I don't know why you humored him. He could have all the money in the world and he'd still be a jerk," opined Fran.

Lizzie couldn't explain it either. The more she got to know the man, the less she understood him. And frankly, she didn't have the stomach for the paradox.

So, in response to her mother's observation, she merely shrugged.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

 _5:47pm - Two Fridays later_

Lizzie didn't see Will on Wednesday, as he'd originally threatened. Nor on the Wednesday after. A little disturbed by her anticipation, she filed it to the back of her mind. She did, after all, have bigger things to worry about. Things like -

 _Arnie Collins._ Her phone lit up with his incoming call. Ugh.

Arnie - or Colin, as he liked to be called, nevermind that it wasn't his name - was the son of one of her mother's "best" friends from high school. Despite the lack of shared genetic material and despite the single visit in their entire existence, Fran had always insisted in calling him the girls' "Cousin Colin." Updates came in the form of a holiday newsletter, which their mother would relay as a series of questions: _Did you know your Cousin Colin won Honorable Mention for his magic routine in the 6th grade talent show? Have you seen the picture of your Cousin Colin shaking hands with the city councilor?_ As they had gotten older, Lizzie had turned it into a private game with Jane. _Did you hear that Cousin Colin won Most Mediocre in his graduating class? Did you know that Cousin Colin was picked last in kickball again?_ Jane, predictably, had always admonished her to be nice.

As of the last holiday letter, Cousin Colin had moved from his childhood home of Tempe, Arizona to Santa Barbara, California for work. Lizzie wasn't entirely certain what it was that he did for a living, although his job had brought him to New York for the next two weeks. Which meant that, at present, he was meeting her for an after work drink. One had to be polite, after all.

She picked up her phone and tried to inject some enthusiasm in her voice. "Colin! Hi!"

He sounded vaguely annoyed. "Where are you?" No greeting.

"It's nice to hear you." She was sure the sarcasm was lost on him. "I'm at the Smith, as we planned. Where are you?" A dirty martini, extra olives appeared at her elbow. She smiled her thanks to Charlotte, then scowled dramatically at her phone.

"You must be mistaken. I'm also at the Smith, and I don't see you. Are you sure you're in the right place?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure that we agreed upon the Smith on Broadway - it's just around the corner from my office."

A pause. "I'm at the Smith on 3rd Avenue. Can you just come here?"

She resisted the urge to throw her phone across the bar. "I'm with a friend. Why don't you come up and meet us? A cab will take 10 minutes. We can wait."

"Two beautiful women. I'll be there." _Click_.

Lizzie turned to Charlotte, who was sipping on her own drink. "He's an inconceivable mix of social awkwardness and slime."

Her boss friend shrugged. "I'm sure he's not so bad. Why is he here again?"

"Work, but don't ask me what that is. All I know is that he's in town from Santa Barbara for a bit."

"Beach life. Nice."

"Trust me, the sun, sand, and surf is entirely lost on him."

"Still, must be nice."

Lizzie didn't feel like pursuing the topic. "Seems like your prediction about Jane and Charlie is coming true."

Charlotte's eyes lit up conspiratorially. "Not too boring after all?"

"I haven't seen her this happy in a long time. She's positively giddy."

"Good. She deserves some happiness. As do you."

Lizzie couldn't make out Charlotte's meaning. "How's that?"

"Will Darcy asked about you."

She groaned. "What now? My expense reports? My programs budget? I swear that man has an adding machine in place of a soul."

"Nothing like that, actually. He just asked if you were in when he came by the office last week. You were out at that site visit."

"Thank goodness I had a reason not to be there."

Charlotte gave her a disbelieving look. "Lady, what I wouldn't do to have the founder of Pemberley Capital chasing after me."

"He's not chasing. He's circling like a school of disapproving, judgmental sharks. Did you know a school of sharks is also a shiver? That's what he makes me do."

"Lizzie."

"What?! He was rude to my mom. He looks down on women if they're not some unattainable combination of Gwyneth Paltrow and Amal Clooney. And he disdained my cats."

"I find that hard to believe. The part about women, that is. You have to admit that having a cat named Kitty is pretty silly."

" _I_ know that. _He_ has no sense of humor. And I'm not kidding about his views on women. His expectations are so high that they set us back. How can we move forward if no one will acknowledge the struggle?"

"I don't disagree about the struggle. But I'm not sold on the idea that he has it out for women."

"Whatever. I don't have to deal with him regularly."

"But he's Charlie's best friend. And if things with Jane and Charlie go well…"

"Yeah yeah, christenings and birthday parties. I can handle that, along with the occasional board meeting."

Charlotte's face was unconvinced, but she chose not to say anymore. Luckily, they were interrupted by a waft of cologne. "Beth!"

Lizzie grimaced. "Please, call me Lizzie." Wanting to avoid hugging him, she stuck her hand out for a shake. "Colin, it's nice to see you. This is my boss and friend, Charlotte."

He waggled his eyebrows. It made him look like a cross-eyed, pale Groucho Marx. "Sucking up to the boss, good move. My boss would never be caught in a place like this. It's far too informal. She only drinks port in the evening, and she has impeccable taste. This place probably don't have a big port collection."

That said more about his boss than about their location. "Not on the drink menu, no. But there's an extensive cocktail menu. Can I get you a drink?"

"A woman buying a man a drink? It'd be improper. Please, allow me. My boss gave me a very generous per diem, so it won't cost me anything."

Lizzie was amused by his obtuseness. His female boss was most definitely buying his drinks. But her friend swooped in before she could mention the contradiction. "And what is it that you do for work? Lizzie mentioned you were traveling on business."

Colin brightened. A favorite topic, apparently. "I'm Catherine DeBourgh's personal assistant. You recognize the name I'm sure. She's currently in New York for the Met Gala and other appointments."

Charlotte's eyes went round. "She was a huge stylist in the 80s and 90s, right? My mother used to love her work with Steven Meisel."

"She only styles as a personal favor to friends these days: Cindy, Naomi...you know. But she's very busy with her line for QVC, writing her memoirs, and her many charitable engagements. The Real Housewives are desperate for her cameos." His chest puffed up as he spoke. "I manage everything for her and her daughter. They couldn't do without me, as she tells me all the time."

Lizzie allowed her eyes stray to the door as Charlotte and Colin continued to chat. She watched as a couple came in, the man gallantly helping the lady out of her light spring jacket. A gaggle of twenty something It-girls entered next, tottering in heels too high, clutching bags easily worth a month's rent. Then He walked in.

He was tall - a few inches over 6 feet, Lizzie guessed - with a thick head of hair a shade between sand and caramel. His broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist, reminding Lizzie of a swimmer's build. He had an almost Roman profile with a strong nose and a confident cleft in his chin. The grin he flashed at the hostess revealed laugh lines punctuated by twin dimples. In short, Lizzie found him breathtaking.

She surreptitiously monitored his progression toward a group of men gathered around whiskey neats at the other end of the bar. As he exchanged a few hearty back slaps, his gaze roamed the crowded bar. They made eye contact. Caught red-handed, Lizzie immediately feigned deep involvement in what Colin was saying. "...it's 1,500 square feet and the perfect space for a bachelor or, you know, a young couple."

"Sounds lovely," breathed Charlotte. "And how generous of Ms. DeBourgh for allowing you to live there."

"Oh, it's nothing compared to the main house. Every room there has a theme, and it's all done with the utmost authenticity. They imported the bricks from Naples for a wood burning oven in the Tuscan kitchen. Anne - that's Ms. DeBourgh's daughter - has her room entirely done in 18th century chinoiserie. And the settee in the English formal living room was said to be owned by Wallis, Duchess of Windsor herself."

It all sounded very disjointed to Lizzie. "Well, there's nothing like cultural appropriation and Nazi sympathy to accompany afternoon tea."

Colin's eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

"What Lizzie means to say is what incredibly complex history there must be in every room," her boss hastened to add. "Right, Lizzie?"

"Sure. Complex."

He seemed mollified. "The DeBourghs have impeccable taste." Colin seemed unaware that he was repeating himself. "And discerning judgment of people. I would never consider dating someone seriously if Ms. DeBourgh didn't approve."

"And are you? Dating someone?" Surely that wasn't curiosity in Charlotte's voice? Lizzie held back a shudder.

"Not at the moment, no. I'm waiting for the right woman to sweep off her feet. I have a lot to offer, you know. Ms. DeBourgh has high expectations for me."

"And what about Aunt Carole? How does she feel about it?"

"What?" Colin seemed genuinely confused by the question.

Lizzie felt compelled elaborate. "Surely your mother must want your happiness, too."

He unconsciously scrunched his nose in a gesture of distaste. "Of course she does. But she would be happy with anyone I brought home. Ms. DeBourgh has higher standards."

Lizzie's head spun from the inanity. And Charlotte wasn't catching her eye to revel in the joke with her. But then, in the middle of this crowded bar, came her saving grace… "Another round, please!"

The bartender nodded in reply.

 _7:38 pm - Outside the Smith_

Lizzie was tipsy. Almost two hours with Colin and three drinks on an empty stomach meant that she needed food, fast. She contemplated going back inside and ordering at the bar, but everyone had just gone their separate ways. Lizzie hated the thought of eating alone surrounded by the Friday night crowd. She'd call Jane.

As her thumb hovered over the little green phone icon, a throat cleared behind her. "You're not leaving, are you?" It was Him - the dimpled Roman swimmer.

"Do you use that line often?" She pretended to wince.

"Only on pretty ladies who look way too interesting to sit bored at a bar on Friday night."

This time, she did wince. "That was terrible. I should report you to the pickup police."

With chagrin, he held out his hand. "Greg. Sorry about the bad intro."

"Lizzie Bennet. I can forgive you if you can tell me your last name and your favorite pizza nearby."

"Wickham. Greg Wickham. And surely not pizza, when chicken and rice is only an avenue over."

"Are you offering to join me? That's bold. We've only just met."

"How else would we get to know each other? We can keep it public. And anyway, I've had enough of the meatheads in this place."

Lizzie raised a brow. "Friends of yours?"

"Not exactly. Just a group of finance guys that I used to hang with. I'm between jobs at the moment. Networking, you know."

She nodded. "Networking is a job in and of itself. I never knew how —"

"Lizzie." They both looked up at the interruption. _Will Darcy?_

Caught off guard, her only response was, "Hi."

Greg was a little smoother. "Will Darcy. Fancy running into you here."

Lizzie glanced at him in surprise. "You two know each other?" _What were the chances?_

"You could say that," Greg responded cheerfully.

"I should ask the same thing."

His blatant disapproval irked her. "We just met, but yes, we're getting to know each other. In fact, we were about about to go get dinner."

Greg's hand came to rest on her shoulder, solid and reassuring. "So, you'll have to excuse us," he said. "Have a nice night, Will."

As they walked away, Lizzie felt the tension drain from her shoulders. Greg must have felt it too. He gave her a light little squeeze and let go. She immediately missed the warmth. "Not a fan of his? There are women all over town swooning at his feet. Wealth and influence together are a powerful cologne."

She grimaced. "Then I must be immune. I work for the Bingley Foundation, and he's on the Board of Directors. Finance Committee Chair."

"Ah yes. Charlie Bingley's attempt to curry favor with the unwashed masses."

"Not so fast," Lizzie cautioned. "I'm one of those masses. I wouldn't work there if I didn't believe in what they were doing. Will just seems to pop up and glower at all the wrong times, is all. The night we met, he was rude and insulting. And without the benefit of knowing me or my family."

She gave him a sidelong look as they crossed the street. "How do you know him?"

Greg dug his hands into his pockets. "You sure you want the whole story? It's a long one. And it might impact how you view him."

"We have two blocks to go, and there's always a line at the cart. We have time."

He gave a little humorless smile. "To start, he's the reason why I'm unemployed at the moment."

"No!" She couldn't believe it. "Did you work for Pemberley?"

Greg shook his head. "Will and I actually grew up together in the Hudson Valley. My dad was the estate manager at his family's home, Pemberley. Which is where the fund name comes from, by the way." Lizzie nodded in recognition.

Encouraged, Greg continued. "I grew close with Will's dad. Called him Uncle John and everything. Will was a little jealous of our relationship, I think. He's been a bit snobby since birth. Uncle John pushed Will really hard to make friends, but it was kind of a lost cause. I think Uncle John and I shared the same outgoing nature, so we bonded a little closer."

"From what I know of Will, it makes sense. Poor kid, though."

"Poor kid with all the resources in the world at his fingertips, you mean." Greg rolled his eyes. "Anyway, my dad died when I was in 7th grade. He didn't have any siblings, and there was nowhere for me to go. So Uncle John took me in until I finished junior high with Will. And when Will went off to Exeter, so did I."

"You're a prep school kid too, huh?"

"I was an Exonian for exactly one term, until Will and his merry band of entitled rich kids decided I wasn't good enough to be there with them. They framed me for tampering with school government elections. I was thrown out because the school needed their parents' money more than they needed me."

Lizzie felt for the young Greg and his lingering bitterness. "What happened then?"

"Uncle John was livid. But there wasn't anything he could do; the decision was final. So I went back to Pemberley and finished at the local high school. In some ways, it was a blessing. I got to live with Uncle John while Will was away - our relationship grew stronger. I think Will's jealousy got deeper and deeper over time.

"So anyway, when Will's dad died about 15 years ago, he actually left me a pretty nice inheritance, with one huge stipulation. Will was just getting on his feet with Pemberley Capital, and Uncle John decided that my portion should be invested in the fund and held for at least 10 years. After that, I could choose what I wanted to do with it. But after the tenth anniversary of Uncle John's death, Will didn't honor his part of the deal. When I asked to withdraw my inheritance, Will refused. He claimed that the cost to manage it had eaten into what I was owed. I only received about a third of what he owed me."

"You couldn't extract the remainder?"

"Not without a huge scandal. And," he gave a small self-deprecating smile, "I had some other reasons not to make a fuss. You see, I was actually involved with Will's sister at the time. Have you met her?"

"Georgie? No. What's she like?"

"A lot like Will, actually. They both share a particular - distance - from those around them. But I thought I could be good for her, break her out of her shell, you know? Will was livid. He thought I was too old, and she was too young. He started a huge campaign to break us up."

"And it worked?"

"He threatened to cut her off from her inheritance. She was just out of college, trying to make it as a photographer. It was a pretty effective threat for a struggling artist, especially one who was used to a certain lifestyle."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "You don't have to hold back with me. Is she totally spoiled?"

Greg gave her a conspiratorial grin. "You didn't hear it from me."

They had reached the front of the line. Ordering took Lizzie's attention away for a moment - chicken and lamb combo, extra white and hot sauce for her; chicken, extra hot sauce for him - but as they settled on nearby benches, she dove back into the matter at hand. "So Georgie was coerced into breaking up with you?"

He swallowed his bite. "It took very little convincing. But as insurance, in case I could convince her that I could support us both - I was in M&A in private equity, and doing okay - he had me blacklisted from all the firms he knew around town."

Lizzie was astonished. "That's insane! Surely not everyone does what he tells them to do."

"Everyone who matters. Money talks."

"I can't imagine why Charlie is friends with him. He's such a kind person. I just don't get it."

Greg shrugged. "In any case, I haven't been able to work regularly for the past five years. I can cobble together a contract gig here and there - hence tonight's networking. It's enough to make ends meet, but I won't pretend I haven't thought about leaving New York entirely."

"Why haven't you?"

"I'm too settled here. Even with the way things have turned out, I still rely on my connections to keep me afloat. I couldn't do that if I moved to Pittsburgh or somewhere."

As she took a sip of water from her bottle, Lizzie's mind was working a mile a minute. How dare Will interfere with Greg's life in this way? And his poor sister, completely under his thumb. She recalled how he had leaped to take control when Georgie had texted about her daughter at dinner. _What a piece of work._

He interrupted her building anger. "Anyway, that's enough about me. What about you? Who were you out with tonight?"

She laughed. "Let me tell you all about my 'Cousin Colin'..."

 _9:14pm - Just around the corner from where we left them_

Lizzie was having a great night. Period. Greg was an entertaining conversationalist and handsome to boot. They had decamped from public benches to a cozy bar nearby where the beer list was stellar and the pretzels were free. She sighed, knowing that Jane was probably home and waiting to commence their usual Friday veg session in front of the television. It was likely time to head back.

And then, she had a stroke of brilliance.

"Hey. I have to go soon, but I wonder… do you want to be my plus one at Charlie Bingley's birthday party next week? It's a shindig on their yacht. He's been seeing my sister, and he invited me to bring someone. Do you want to come?"

Greg gave her a skeptical look. "Those are some rarified circles. I mean, I'd like to. You think I'd be welcome?"

"Charlie won't mind. And I'm welcoming you. Plus, can you imagine the look on Will Darcy's face when you show up? It would serve him right for all the trouble he's caused you."

Greg chuckled. "I get to spite Will, _and_ spend another evening with you? You have me this close to saying yes."

"What will put you over the edge? More pretzels?" She pushed the little dish closer to him.

"Your number, for starters." He wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

Lizzie chuckled as she took the offered phone and sent herself a text. "You're a huge flirt, you know that?"

"Is it working?"

"Meet me next Friday at Pier 5 in Brooklyn. I'll give you an answer then." She gave him a coy smile.

"Just for that, I'll let you pay for the last round."


End file.
